★the star that stands in the breast of the Lion (regulusblack) wrote in incompletedata, @ 2018-06-06 15:17:00 |
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Regulus had managed to procure a large spool of thick cotton thread and some paperclips from the new bodega. While he waited for his brother, he sat on a cafeteria table, his feet firmly planted on the bench in front of him, making a conscious effort not to look at anyone else who'd come in for their lunch. Scattered at his side were his new purchases, a cardboard toilet paper tube and some tape. After some careful consideration, Black meticulously unbent and curled the paperclip to form a small hook. Then, with a bit of patience, he managed to crush and mold cardboard tube and affix it to the unfurled end of the metal wire to fashion himself a bit of a makeshift crochet hook. He had no idea how functional his creation would prove to be, but he didn't know any intricate lace patterns off by heart anyway. He wanted to hook lace as a way to occupy his mind and keep his hands busy, not because he had any grand design planned. But the art of folding over thin twine -- it was like weaving but more knotted, more tangled and uneven -- and twisting together threads required just the right amount of skill else the whole thing get botched up beyond repair. Else you get suffocated at the bottom of a lake Sirius had no idea who he was. Not really. His brother thought of him as a stupid child who'd tried to impress their mother and ended up folding himself over and twisting himself into the bleak motives of a Dark Wizard whose obsession with power was the only thing that fueled him - not some principle about blood purity. But Regulus hadn't forgotten himself or how much he loved his brother when he'd decided to a dalliance with the Dark Arts. In fact, it was Sirius' decision to leave the family that had knotted the strings of Regulus' fate: without the heir, responsibilities fell to the spare. To let his brother keep his life and his freedom, Regulus had done everything he could to be the only son his mother could ever want. All the while, plotting his own escape. All the while, chipping away at Voldemort's facade to learn the secrets of a souless man in hopes of one day finding a way to stop him. In the end, the pattern was too intricate and the threads too thin. They snapped, Regulus drown, and if the choices me made did anything to help Voldemort meet his demise, Black certainly never lived to see it. (cover by Amanda Palmer) |